


House Rules

by KillerOfHope



Series: Sub Dean Works [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, BDSM, Bunker Fic, Butt Plugs, Come play, Dom Sam Winchester, Embarrassed Dean Winchester, M/M, Master/Pet, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rough Sex, Sam is a toppy Bastard, Sex Toys, Sub Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:54:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23147302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KillerOfHope/pseuds/KillerOfHope
Summary: Dean and Sam have a secret section in the Bunker where they play and Dean becomes a 24/7 sub.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Series: Sub Dean Works [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1663897
Comments: 4
Kudos: 80





	House Rules

**Author's Note:**

> Hello guys, I am back. I'm not dead, just credibly busy and writing on too many projects at once instead of finishing them one after the other. Hence why I returned to a classic. Have fun and due to the recent crisis: stay healthy. 
> 
> **Prompt:** One of the brothers' kinky pleasure is to have several quickies throughout the day and insert a plug each time to keep all that come warm and cozy inside of Dean. At the end of the day, Sam takes his time to twist and remove the butt plug and play with Dean's messy hole. After one last fuck, and one last hot load, he scoops up the come and feeds it to Dean and / or has Dean lick his cock clean.

When they had the time to unwind, one of their favourite pastimes was having sex. After a lifetime of fighting and getting hurt, sex was an easy pleasure and familiar. Long ago, they had fallen into their respective roles, born from preferences and their strange, secret dynamic which left no room for outsiders. 

Dean likes it the most when they have the bunker for themselves. Then they can do as they want, without fearing any kind of interruptions. 

It allows situations like this. Sam is currently fucking him, having him bend over the kitchen table and Dean is moaning in answer to the heavy strokes. The wood underneath his chest is rough but warmed up from his own body heat. Sweat drips from his forehead. 

His vision grows a little fuzzy and Dean is unable to focus any more, all senses lost in the wake of Sam banging him. 

His head drops on the table and his hands tremble slightly. Dean is glad for the support, he is weak against the assault. Sam's balls are slapping against his ass, the table rattles against the floor and leaves Dean bucking helplessly against the dick spreading him apart. 

"Sam!," Dean pleads. He has already come, spend himself on the kitchen floor. His body has calmed down a little, but it still reacts to ever stimulating cock. 

His brother doesn't answer. He only grunts before suddenly plastering himself all over Dean's back. 

Stilling and grasping Dean's hips to hold him tight, Sam slams into him one last time while attempting to get his dick as deep inside as he possibly could. 

Dean's moan echos Sam's when his brother comes. 

It takes minutes of heaving panting filling the air until Sam slowly hoists himself up. 

"Stay here," he says, a little out of breath and pats Dean's lower back. "I have got something for you." 

It is difficult to resist the temptation of getting up and stretching his aching muscles, but Dean obeys. With a pounding heart, he waits what Sam has planned. Thankfully his master does not go far. He thought ahead and now grabs something he placed on the kitchen counter before he ordered Dean to strip. 

"Ngh," Dean breathes out when Sam returns and unceremoniously shoves a toy into his backside. 

It is heavy but not as big as he initially fears. 

Dean trembles slightly when Sam adjusts the position of the toy until it is lodged deep inside. Only when he steps back, he gives Dean permission to move. 

With confusion written over his face and his body finally calming, his hole closing around the toy, Dean looks at his brother and Master. 

"Today I want you to keep your come inside," Sam tells him. His large hands wander over Dean's chest and the motion makes him shiver. "The plug goes back each time I fuck you, do you understand?" 

Dean nods hastily. The stern voice has him equally embarrassed and turned on. He looks at his feet and hopes it is the appropriate reaction. This game is still new and with the rules in effect Dean is still adjusting the strange situation. 

"Yes," he says and eyes his clothing, unsure if Sam deems the scene itself as finished. 

"You may go. In the next hours, you can do as you please, Dean. I will come find you later," Sam tells him. He presses a kiss against his temple and ruffles his hair. 

* * *

He likes submitting to Sam. 

Dean admits that truth when he is alone in the garage, taking care of the impala. It is his self-appointed job to restock bullets, check any weapons and their stores. Right now, he is going through the robes and looks for weaknesses. He is half-way through and slowly he is sinking into the familiar mind-scape. This has been his safe place long before he got involved with Sam. 

Though, it started a long time ago. The first few shared kisses and hand-jobs happened before the fateful day Sam left. 

That had been years ago and it took nearly just as long for Dean to leave the reigns to his brother. Distantly, he is aware that this is their coping mechanism. Their own personal dynamic where Sam feels safe when he can control his environment and Dean where he can let go. 

With a shuddery breath, Dean tries to compare how their life changes since they permanently moved into the bunker. 

The life on the road for so many years lead to sex, a lot of sex in motel rooms. On dirty beds, against the walls or in tiny showers. Not enough to feel safe or protected, not with the owner or a few bikers just next door. 

Dean blames those years for starting to like  _ this  _ in the first place. 

The rope slips through his hands when he remembers how often Sam fucked him on the rough carpet because the beds looked not inviting enough to have sex in. How many hours did he spend on his knees, ass in the air and crying out because the world only feels right when he has his little brother's weight on him and that cock in his ass? 

With his face heating up at the memory, Dean notices how his lower regions stir. 

The toy, hidden beneath his jeans, reminds Dean of their ... arrangement. It should frighten him. Instead, he likes the thought of having sex whenever he wants. Of letting Sam decide and take him apart. 

Following the rules isn't always easy, but Sam has always made it worth it. 

  
  


  
  


"Are you done?" Sam shoves his head through the door and finds Dean sitting on the floor, oiling and cleaning their guns. "I am making coffee, do you want one?" 

"No, thanks," Dean says, a little too quickly. 

He can't hide his thoughts which are written openly on his face. With the toy constantly reminding of their morning together, he has been wondering if he should drop by soon. But Dean wanted to finish his chores first. It never sits well with him to leave the trunk only half-stocked and themselves unprepared in case of an emergency call. 

"Dean, do you want a break?" Sam drawls. He leans against the doorframe and shoves his hands into his pockets. 

Even from this distance, he can see how pleasure is slowly thrumming through Dean's veins and the jeans look a little uncomfortable. 

The bright red face is answer enough. 

Sam laughs and hauls Dean onto his feet. Since his brother is currently taking care of the car, he fucks him on the cold concrete. It is hell on their knees, so he makes it quick. The plug ensured that Dean is wet and still open, his body hasn't fully calmed down in the three hours they have been apart. 

There is also nothing slow and sweet about it. Dean is trembling his thighs quiver when Sam pulls his ass into the air. Shoving the jeans down is easy and his little brother chuckles at the low moan Dean lets out when the denim brushes over the head of his cock. 

The base of the plug, bright red and no longer hidden under the shorts and pants, makes an indecent sound when Sam tugs at it. 

"S-Sammy," Dean sobs when his little brother barely gives him time. One moment he hears the sound of the zipper and next there is the hard line of Sam's cock spreading him open. 

Dean's brain stutters overwhelmed and yet finding himself in a well-known situation. Since they are home, safe and together, he arches his back before he can think about it, welcoming it when Sam bottoms out. 

A yell sounds through the garage when Sam draws back immediately and thrusts back inside, fast and hard. Under his firm grip and the rushed pace Dean falls apart. 

He shakes, clenching around his brother's cock when Sam comes. Just like this morning, Sam makes sure he pumps his seed fully into to, angling the hips into a beautiful arch. 

Dean moans, high from his own orgasm and holds still when Sam pats him on the thighs. A silent order to remain where he is. 

"Fuck," Dean breathes when Sam pulls out. He expects the toy back, but before he witnesses out of the corner of his eyes how Sam cleans himself up first, using one of the towels Dean brought to wash the car. 

Only when the pants are back in place and Sam is properly dressed, he turns his attention to his waiting brother. 

Dean fights the urge to wiggle, to ask for more than he is already given. Unlike Sam, he is still swimming in the pleasure, just coming down and half-expecting more, because rough, fast sex only happens during hunts. Especially after the kill, when they do not make it back to the hotel in time and just fuck right there in the hunted house. 

His slowly softening cock still hangs between his legs when there is a pressure against his ass. His hole puckers, confused at the light cold touch. 

Closing his eyes, Dean tries to relax. He knows Sam's orders, heard the plan for the day this morning. It's not easy, stunning at first when the plug slides back in. 

"Oh," Dean moans quietly. 

His face heats up when Sam comments on how easy this was. 

"See, it is that simple. Now you have another load and the plug is going to keep it there," Sam says and pulls Dean's pants back up. He is gentle in his touch as if he wants to apologize for the aching joints and the forceful coupling. 

"Yes, Sam. Thank you. " Dean mumbles. Of course, he notices how Sam phrased it. He doesn't repeat the order, it is merely a reminder that his instructions are still in place. He tries not to think about the added weight. It cannot be much, but he feels fuller than before. "I'm going to finish up here. Then we can eat dinner together." 

Sam nods, fully aware that it is going to take Dean at least two more hours to get everything done. 

With a soft kiss against Dean's temple, Sam leaves the garage and returns to his books. 

* * *

Sam fucks him three more times this day. It leaves Dean physically drained and yet fully on edge for Sam never takes his time. Instead, he presses Dean's buttons to get him hard and bothered in seconds, fucks him hard enough to until his cries echo through the halls of the bunker and then leaves him whipped and half-destroyed to catch his breath. 

Dean's cock throbs, it hasn't gotten much attention the entire day. 

Of course, Sammy does not need to jerk him off. As his fully established Master and long time lover, Sam knows very well to get him to come untouched. 

The toy pressing and rubbing against his insides just makes it worse. 

For it goes back every single time. 

Dean feels odd and as the day crawls on he believes his hole should be raw. Instead, the ring of muscles stretching around the silicone is soft and smooth. With a heavy blush and hoping that Sam doesn't walk in to see it, he reaches into his pants. The skin is damp, drops of sweat run down the cleft of his ass and Dean contemplates to ask Sam to stop. 

To go on his knees and take the plug out. 

On the other hand, he doesn't know if he will get it back. 

He can say if it is the dilated hole or the prospect of punishment that helps Dean through the evening. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


It's clear that Sam has something planned. After dinner, he helps with the dishes, but orders Dean to leave the pots and pans for tomorrow. 

"Follow me," he orders and doesn't even need a pet name to get his point across. 

The tone of Sam's voice, strict and confident, so willing to shift every ounce towards him, has Dean eager and aching. 

"Master," he whines as soon as they step through the door of their bedroom. It is not the one they use for sleeping. With so many empty rooms available, they keep their own space. 

A place for privacy and born out of vastly different sleep schedules. 

"How are you holding up, Dean?" Sam asks. For the first time today, he truly pays attention to his brother's body. 

His hands roam over Dean's shirt and hey catch the nipples. He carefully pinches them and takes in Dean's reaction. His brother cries out and attempts to grind his crotch against Sam's thigh. 

"It feels so wet down there," Dean whined. He rests his forehead against Sam's shoulders, holding onto the broad frame and shudders in pleasure when his nipples get squeezed again. 

It reminds him of the times when his Master uses the clamps. Dean likes those, they are a good distraction. 

Pain would be preferable to the sticky feeling in his jeans. That itself is nothing new, sometimes Master likes to make him come in his pants and makes him walk around with it, but today it is on the wrong side. 

"Does it bother you having my come in you?" Sam wants to know. He drags Dean's shirt over his head. 

He kisses him, slowly and far too soft. Dean crawls into his Master's lap, confused when those strong beloved hands stay over the belt. 

"It's strange," Dean admits. Despite straddling Sam's thighs, he avoids the eye contact. 

But his brother is having none of it. Knowing how well Dean responses to a light, tormenting hand, he returns his attention to the nipples. They are an often-used tool for a little abuse, especially when there is no time for a proper spanking or the deep pain Dean craves from his Master. 

The humiliation how well and sensitive he answers to having them pinched, used and pulled at until they throb painfully, always brings Dean to heel. 

"Answer me properly, pet," Sam orders harshly. He pulls at Dean's hair and manhandles his brother around. 

Laying on his back, pressed into the mat and his jeans stretching uncomfortably over his parted legs, Dean's face turns red. Like this, with Sam between him and hovering above, the wet spot soaking through the denim is glaringly obvious. 

"It's too much. You put too much come in me, Master," Dean admits. 

He doesn't fight when Sam his pants off with a hungry expression on his face. His Master seems extremely pleased when he touches the black briefs and finds them damp, almost soggy where they cover the hole and the cleft of Dean's ass. 

"Is that so? But you have yet to protest against it, Each time I found you today, you were already hard," Sam says and touches the base through the shorts. He wiggles his fingers, only slightly, but Dean immediately bucks against the motion. 

His brother mewls and with one hand grabbing the back of his left knee, Sam feels the violent twitch that goes through Dean. 

Sam grins, slowly unwrapping the mean dominating side that has Dean relaxing in his arms like icecream in summer. He grabs the other leg and grinds against his brother's ass. Loose as it is, their roles are clearly defined and Dean jerks against the pressure, the slow friction. 

"I enjoyed it, pet, finding you wet and open for me," Sam says and gives it another roll. He is hard already, he wants nothing more than pound into Dean again. Just like he did all day, but that's not all what he is after. "Next time we will practice with a bigger plug, wider than this one. Then you can keep everything inside. Maybe we will even go outside. Think about how you would feel if you had my come in your ass while paying the cashier." 

"No, Master, please, don't do it," Dean begs. He hides his face in his hands, but through the damp boxers his cock pulsates and the wet spot where the head rubs against the denim grows larger. "Don't make me go outside like this." 

"I will work you up to it," Sam croons, already imagining how Dean's pretty flushed face would look like. "But first I am putting one more shot in your tight ass." 

Dean is too aroused and swept up by Sam's ravenous fervour that he digs his fingers into the sheets when his boxers are ripped off his body. The plug is nestled against his skin, like a dam barely holding back a river. Already there is wetness seeping out, trickling out through the sides. 

The embarrassment fades in comparison at the open want written into his Master's face. Since he is serious about his intentions he hauls Dean up, rips the plug away and replaces it with his cock the very next second. Dean screams, his ass is lifted off the bed until only his upper back and his shoulders are touching the mat. 

His legs are thrown over Sam's arms and shoulders. 

He tries to hold onto something when his Master plunges into him, almost punching the air out of Dean's lungs with every thrust. Dean watches hazily, jostled by every shove. His cock is dripping on his stomach, but that is nothing compared how his Master fucks the wetness into him, deeper someone and manages to put more hot semen into his pliant, limber body. 

"Sir!" Dean cries out. It seems like as if his Master is coming a long time and he is sensitive to every twitch of the cock inside him. 

When Master reaches for the plug again, Dean sobs. He is aching and aware he hasn't come. 

He arches into Master's touch and stares at the wet flaccid cock hanging between Sam's legs. Who is silent as he slowly lowers Dean back onto the bed. 

"Get off the bed. Stand up," Sam orders after having taken his fill of looking at the worn, trembling mess under him. 

Dean blinks away the tear which is a sign of his own need, still unfulfilled and rupturing through his shaky control. He doesn't even think about it when Sam gives the order. Years of thrill and deeply rooted satisfaction has him moving off the bed. His legs barely hold him upright when he finally stands before his Master who has gotten rid of his shirt and is sitting with open jeans on the edge of the bed. 

When the scorching, contemplating gaze goes up and down his body, Dean fights the urge to sink to his knees. The moment where Master looks at him, he always fears to be found wanting. 

Thankfully, Master gives him a task to fulfil, a way to please. 

"Reach between your legs and touch the base," Sam says, hinting that he intends to direct Dean's movements as if he would be doing it himself. 

He obeys and halts, waiting for further instructions. Even through the haze of his own lust and need Dean comprehends that Sam hasn't given any new orders. 

"You look good, pet, with my come dripping out of you. There is so much you cannot hold inside anymore." 

"Yes, Sir," Dean answers, his hand still connected with the base of the plug. The six loads of an entire day are slowly running over his fingers. It is still warm, not dried up at all. "This is all yours. It tingles a little." 

"Now, take the plug out. Pull it slowly, yes, just like this." Sam smirks a little as Dean's toes curl and a first ridge sweeps past the rim. As his come slowly drips down Dean's thighs, he orders, "Look how greasy it is. It shines, why don't you clean up your toy? You have been using it the entire day." 

A sharp moan leaves Dean before he lifts the toy and puts it to his lips. He is standing in the middle of the room, in the dim light of the bunker and suckles at the plug he wore all day. Meanwhile, more of Sam's come sweeps out, dribbling down his skin and even splashing on the ground with little sounds that Dean finds distressing. It means there is so much and that he had it inside him all day. 

"Place the plug between your lips, pet." At Dean's confused look, Sam clarifies, "Put it in your mouth, like a gag. Do not touch it and don't spit out. Or I will get a band and tie it down. I want you to carry it around, understand? I gave you the toy, you keep it until I take it away." 

"Hm." Dean nods. He follows suit and watches how his fingers tremble when he lets go. 

The plug feels large in his mouth. It rests against his tongue, a little like Master's cock. 

Dean looks down. He can barely focus on his dick, erect and heavy between his legs because there is a puddle of come on the ground. 

It's a lot and there is still more coming out. It's oozing out, sloshing slightly every time he moves. 

He looks at his Master, wondering what is he supposed to do. Does Master wants him to wait until he is empty? It feels shameful, standing there and overflowing with come. 

"Yes, pet, you are going to wait until every drop has leaked out of you," Master says and Dean swallows around the bright red plug. 

He feels incredibly glad when Master gestures him to come a little closer. A hand supports him by his hip, the other brushes past Dean's heavy balls. His heart leaps against his throat when three fingers touch the rim. It reminds him of how hard he is. That he hasn't come, because Master didn't let him when he fucked him. 

"Such a messy ass," Sam purrs. He is playing with the hole, rubs his fingertips over the slick skin and dips into the channel. "So wide and open for me. You are a good pet, Dean."

Dean nods weakly and reaches for Sam's shoulders to steady himself. His tongue brushes against the plug, reminding him that he has now a little of Master's come in his mouth. It tastes like, but not like when he is sucking Master. 

With a jolt, Dean realizes that the taste is his own. He is tasting himself, his own ass and wetness, joined with Master's load. 

He keens and wants to shout. It takes all his willpower not to spit to plug out. Since he does not want to disappoint after being praised, he sucks harder at the silicone. Desperate and yearning he nurses the bulbous toy. He almost imagines that it leaks. 

Load moans slip past the makeshift gag and Dean is panting, heaving as Master starts to finger fuck him. 

He wants to beg, but with the plug in his mouth, he cannot speak. 

Lowering his gaze, he sends a pleading look at his unyielding Master. 

"No, you cannot come," Sam says. He sounds harsh. "Not until everything is out." 

When Dean's slips and he attempts to jerk his cock for a little relief, Sam slaps his hand away. 

"Pet, I have given you an order," Master growls, clearly displeased. Dean freezes, but it is too late. 

He is pushed back when Master stands up. Understanding that he made a mistake, Dean looks over his shoulder to see what it's in for him. He shakes, half in fear and half in arousal, when Sam returns and pulls cuffs and chains from the ceiling. Determined and finding no resistance from his pet, Sam draws up Dean's arms and fastens the strong leather around his wrists. 

The restraints ensure that Dean remains on his spot, standing over the puddle of come dripping out of his ass. Dean cannot say it with the toy still gagging him, but the chains make it easier remaining upright. Though, now his own need to come has heightened considerably. 

Master walks up to him when he's done restricting Dean's movements. With a firm hold, he grabs his brother's chin and forces him to look up, highlighting the contrast in height and power. 

Without saying anything, only keeping eye-contact, Sam spreads Dean's legs with a nudge of his knees. 

It stretches his hole pleasantly, just for a moment until his Master slaps his sensitive hole. Short, strong jabs hit the come drenched skin, causing Dean to clench down and force more of Sam's semen from his hole. This time it's thicker already, sticky and Dean thinks, hovering at the edge, that this it. That this maybe the batch from this morning. 

"Be patient, pet. Or else you will have to wait until I can fuck you again. I have no qualms to put more inside you." Dean groans when another slap hits the spread hole. He squeezes his eyes shut, hyperaware of Master's hands on his ass. He is grabbing it tightly, enough to leave imprints. It is a reminder of how Master often fucks him hard. How Master owns that ass. "Yes, just like this. That's right. Let my come drip out of you. I like you stained and covered."

Sam thrusts two fingers back into his pet's hole and listens him moan around the plug his brother keeps so obediently in his mouth. Just looking at the red base sticking out between his lips sends a thrill down Sam's back. 

More desperate than ever before, because he is right on edge and helpless as Sam played with his ass, teasing the hole and circling it before diving back in, Dean's cock is now dripping wet. The drops join the growing puddle on the floor. 

Shivering, Dean whispers a plea around the plug. 

Master shushes him and then, carefully and gently, he curls the two fingers in Dean's hole, pressing them against his prostate. 

With burning muscles, Dean finally comes. Something  _ snaps  _ and Master pets him through it, 

  
  


  
  


Dean comes to himself when he's laying on the bed. Master is with him and slowly wiping him down. When he is done, he pulls a soft blanket over him and sits down, allowing Dean to curl up by his side until his head rests on his thigh. 

Before he dozes off, warm and cosy and gone, Dean's mind registers that Sam is wearing sweatpants - and the plug is back in his ass. 

**Author's Note:**

> PWP used to define the length of a fic you could fit into a lj-comment. Even back in those times, the prompts tended to run away from me. But there is worse than subby Dean blushing his way through the day and kinky sex.


End file.
